


The voice in my ear

by nekoii



Series: 007 Games 2017 [4]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Gen, Isolation, isolation as torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-13 00:11:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15351888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekoii/pseuds/nekoii
Summary: Q keeps James sane through his isolation torture.For Angst week. Angst prompt table - Isolation.





	The voice in my ear

**Author's Note:**

> (Written for the 007 Games-Fest 2017 on Tumblr hosted by Mi6-Cafe)  
> Un-beta'ed

* * *

 

Bond awoke suddenly to a persistent voice calling out his name repeatedly. Piercing blue eyes snapped open, looking around for the source of the voice, only to realise that it was directly in his ear. 

Having been knocked out and locked in a shipping container, which was currently en route to a warehouse along the Yenisei river. He was clearly disorientated enough to forget about the tiny receiver Q-branch had planted in his ear canal prior to the mission.

“007? 007? Report!” Panic was edging into Q’s tone of professionalism. 

Bond steadied his breathing, assessed his surroundings then himself, reporting the mission status back to his quartermaster who sighed in relief. With no knowing if or when his captors would return, Bond settled himself. As comfortably as one could be, injured and stuck in a cold metal box. With nothing to do but wait. 

“Tell me about the minions.” Bond asked, hoping to distract them both. The quartermaster huffed a dry laugh, a burst of static in his ear had Bond wincing in pain, not that a little bit more pain mattered at that point. His swim earlier and one too many blows to the head must have rattled the little receiver. 

“Yesterday,” Q began, “a large delivery of imported crisps was delivered to MI6. Security was concerned.”

“Large delivery hm.”

“Six foot by eight, bubble wrapped, cardboard box,” Q paused for effect, “of crisps.” Q groaned, remembering the monstrosity in the Q branch lobby - after it was cleared by administration and security. 

“Let me guess-” Bond hummed, a playful lilt in his tone. “From Japan.”

“Bloody- did you put them up to that?” Q exclaimed, then staring at his screen where a dot blinked red on the map of Krasnoyarsk.

“Unfortunately,” the agent sighed, “I can’t take credit for that.” 

“Cube has eaten herself into a croaking voice box, Phil managed to cut the sides of his mouth, the rest of them are coughing out a hospital orchestra.” 

Bond chuckled softly as Q ranted, the mental image of a Q branch covered in crisps crumbs.

“I don’t think you can blame the cough on the crisps.” Bond huffed a laugh, feeling oddly amused at his own sentence. Cough on the crisps. His shoulders shook as he huffed out quiet chuckles, lips pressed thin in a grimace. Laughing really wasn’t a good idea. 

Q seemed to have picked up on that, silence falling between them again as the momentary distraction lost its effect. Hours passed as Q listened closely to his agent’s breathing as his fingers flew across the keyboards.

“007.” Q called out, when the shallow breaths grew even harder to hear. 

“Bond, are you there?” Q heard the strain in his voice, he didn’t try to keep it out. It’s been close to 30 hours now since the double oh was locked up. Bleeding out, alone.

“Q.” Came the agent’s response, voice low and raspy as he straightened himself. Having slid down sideways as he listed away. He listened closely and tried to follow as his quartermaster led him though a few breathing exercises. Bond thinks he feels better, he’s not very sure, but at least Q’s voice sounds clearer in his ear.

Q branch had pinpointed 007′s location an hour ago, still on the river, edging closer to Divnogorsk. On a large shipping vessel, loaded with hundreds of shipment containers. It would take some several hours before the retrieval team reached their agent. 

“James.” Q’s voice is soft through the tiny speakers of the receiver.  “We’re on our way.”

The tightness in Q’s voice dredging up a memory of pale slim fingers clenched tightly against the agent’s back - the night he returned from Kosovo. It was the first time Bond had ever seen Q that distraught.

“I thought I’d look for my Walther first.” He tried to joke, hearing Q huff a laugh on the other end. 

“Never mind that now.” Q said. “Just hold on till we get there.”

“I think I can manage that.” He replied, before trying to fall asleep, hoping time would pass more quickly. 

* * *

End

 


End file.
